


The Dust The Stars Leave Behind

by KChan88



Series: Sailing By Orion's Star: Deleted Scenes [13]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KChan88/pseuds/KChan88
Summary: Fantine and Enjolras bond after the trio's first voyage on the Misericorde.





	

  **Aboard the _Misericorde_. 1706. **

Of course they’d run into an East India ship on their first voyage with Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac.

If it hadn’t been a slaver, they might have sailed past. They would have kept their disguise as a merchant ship, kept their British colors flying and avoided confronting stark memories of the past so soon.

But she _was_ a slaver, and none of them could let it go, especially not when it was on the smaller side and a victory they could seize. But master negotiator that Valjean was, the East India captain didn’t give in, and a battle ensued. Not the most violent Fantine had ever seen, but violent nonetheless. She shifts in bed, smiling at Cosette, who sleeps nearby. Fantine rises, stepping over to Cosette’s hammock, brushing a hand over her daughter’s curls and seizing her coat from the end of her own bed, throwing it on before pushing open the door to their quarters and making her way above. She smiles as she passes the captain’s cabin next door, hearing Valjean muttering something to himself; Feuilly usually shared his uncle’s cabin despite his own worries about preferential treatment, but since the new trio arrived Feuilly had gone down to sleep in the general quarters with them, grown attached and concerned. No matter the rift between René and Frantz with Michel Enjolras-and Fantine knew how deep it ran-she’d seen the cavalcade of memories both joyous and traumatic come alive in their expressions as their eyes landed on the East India flag.

She steps out on deck, greeting the men on the watch and spotting a familiar figure standing on the starboard side by the rail, his lengthening blond hair tied back with a shred of red ribbon, on hand stuck in the pocket of his faded navy blue coat.

“Can’t sleep, René?” she asks, coming up beside him.

“Oh,” he answers, giving her a nervous, close-mouthed smile, but she sees the friendliness within the expression. “I was asleep, for a bit.”

“Did some of the men’s wretched snoring wake you up?” she asks. “You know, the offer is still good for the three of you to take space in one of the cabins, there’s a bit of room, with the officers.”

“That’s all right,” Enjolras says, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be fair, since all the men have been here longer than us. And I’m used to the snoring, mostly.”

_Yes, she wants to say, but you are barely more than a child_ , only she knows it won’t help make her case.

“Did the ocean keep you up then?” she asks.

“No,” he answers, eyes flickering over toward her. “Unless it’s very rough I can sleep through most things the sea has to give,” he continues, a soft laugh emerging. “I had a dream, is all. And couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“May I ask what you dreamt about?”

“Oh,” Enjolras says, surprised, and he’s so very solemn for someone so young. “I…I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“You’re sweet,” Fantine says. She’d worried privately, and a bit to Valjean, that taking on these three might lead to trouble they couldn’t afford, that perhaps Enjolras might be more like his father, that they wouldn’t fit within their ranks. But she sees Astra in Enjolras’ face as she’d seen Chantal’s in Combeferre’s; she’d known Astra Enjolras for a mere fleeting moment, but she finds that moment remaining in her heart, amplified when she looks at René. “But you aren’t bothering me at all.”

“I dreamt that my grandfather was hurting my mother,” Enjolras admits. “Like he used to hurt me.”

“I see,” Fantine says. “I’m sorry, René. No wonder you couldn’t sleep.” She pauses, careful. “Your father doesn’t…do that as well, does he?”

“No,” Enjolras answers, shaking his head vehemently. “He tried to stop my grandfather, but he was afraid of him, too, so it didn’t often hold, for long. There would be spans of months where my grandfather would just yell instead, but he always hit me again, eventually. I just don’t want it to happen to my mother. Perhaps that would be enough to make my father leave.”

“Why do you think he’s so afraid?”

“He was afraid my grandfather would take me away, I think,” Enjolras says. “Or take my mother and me both. Afraid he’ll lose his captaincy. My mother was always telling him we could go, we could leave, we could take that risk instead of holding the pieces of that mess together. Instead of participating in so many things that he found morally questionable for the sake of societal approval.”

“Your mother’s smart,” Fantine says. “And brave as well, for helping us.”

 “She is,” he answers, tearing his gaze away from the dark ocean below and directing it at her. “Why won’t Captain Valjean let me fight?” he says, abrupt. “I’ve been taking sword lessons my whole life, and I’m learning, with the cutlass. I’m sure I could be useful.”

“It’s not an insult to you at all, dear,” Fantine says, and it’s clear this has been bothering him. “It’s just our rule that we don’t let anyone under sixteen go over the side and board other ships. You’re fourteen.”

“Fifteen,” Enjolras corrects.

“Since when?” Fantine asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Well, next week,” Enjolras amends. “Jahni fought, today.”

“Jahni is sixteen,” Fantine says. “And he’s also been sailing on pirate ships for a few years now.”

“Boys in the navy fight even younger,” Enjolras protests.

“We do things differently than they do in the navy,” Fantine says, serious. “And for a reason.”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, chastised. “I just. I want to help.”

“You help plenty doing work on the ship,” Fantine says, putting a light hand on his shoulder. He flinches out of instinct but doesn’t pull away. “And we’ll finish training you, and in a year or so, you and Frantz and Auden will be ready for such things.” She pauses, seeing some worry in his face. “You are an excellent swordsman for your age,” she continues. “Better than some men older than you, in fact. This is not a reflection of that. Valjean and I just are careful about letting very young people fight in the heat of a battle. It can get very violent, René. You saw some of that today. Sometimes we can take a ship without spilling any blood. But sometimes we can’t.”

He nods, but doesn’t answer.

“We also want to make sure the three of you are as safe as we can,” Fantine says. “You are our crew, yes. You’re excellent sailors for being so young. But we’d like you to be our family, too. Do you understand?”

Enjolras hesitates then looks at her again, a brightness in his eyes that reflects the starlight, and something about the flash of belief makes her lose her breath.

“Yes,” he says, more sure now. “I understand. Frantz is an excellent shot, you know, aside from knowing so much about navigation. And don’t tell Auden I told you, but he’d like you to teach him how to use that dirk you’ve got.”

“I’d love to teach him,” Fantine says. She stops, pressing Enjolras’ shoulder a little tighter. “I know you miss your mother, René. I can’t replace her. But you may come to me, if you ever need anything. I can sense you’re bonding with Valjean, but you may count me as someone you can trust. You mother set me on the path to reuniting with Cosette. The very least I can do is look out for her son in return.”

Enjolras looks at her, eyes glimmering and possibly wet. He hesitates, then slides his arms around her, as tall as her already, even at his age. She returns the gesture, and his awkwardness melts, his arms less stiff as she embraces him. It’s quick but genuine, and she feels him trembling just a tad when he pulls away, so she keeps a light hold of one of his hands.

“The first night Javert played with me,” he tells her, eyes scanning the explosion of stars above them. “He told me that he’d transferred to my father’s ship because he let two people escape who shouldn’t have, and I told him my father could teach him to stop bad men.” He stops, a slight teasing in his eyes. “Little did I know those two so called bad people were the ones who’d be doing the rescuing of so many, including me.”

“We are so glad to have you,” Fantine says, clearing her throat as feeling very nearly overcomes her. “All of us.”

“All three of us are glad to be here,” Enjolras says, his face somehow containing a bit of sunlight, even in the darkness around them. “And Fantine, I…I’m sorry. For the way Javert treated you. He won’t tell you that, so I will.”

“I appreciate that,” Fantine says, warm. “I suspect you hold out a hope that one day he’ll change?”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, melancholy wrapped tight around his words. “But I think my father will have to take the first step, and Javert would follow.”

“Do you think your father capable?”

“Yes,” Enjolras repeats. “It’s a question of whether he thinks so. Whether he can find his courage. I love him still,” he continues, sadness cutting through before a simmering anger takes over. “But when I found those slaves on his ship…when I saw Frantz’s face I…that was worse than anything he’d ever let happen to me.”

Fantine slips a tentative arm around his shoulder, keeping her grip loose. Enjolras allows it, inching closer to her and closing the gap between them.

“Valjean and I are going to put all our efforts into finding Chantal,” Fantine tells him. “I hope Frantz knows that.”

“He appreciates it very much,” Enjolras says, some of Feuilly’s earnestness in his voice.

Fantine smiles, looking at Enjolras again, watching as he looks up at the stars, a still childlike fascination in his eyes even through the serious expression. A full smile breaks out onto his face, and there’s something sublime in it, a strange thing for someone so young, yet she finds her own smile growing at the sight.

“I believe your father can change, too,” Fantine tells him, and he turns, surprised.

“You do?”

“I do,” she echoes. “And Javert too, perhaps. We are idealists, you and I,” she says, gesturing back and forth between them. “I don’t think the world out there, no matter how harsh, can shatter us. It can hurt us,” she continues, running one light hand over his forearm, and then another over her own shoulder, where scars from old lash marks remain. “We might need to patch up the cracks, sometimes. But I think we’re made of the dust the stars leave behind, and the stars always come back, don’t they? Even after a storm.”

“Yes they do,” Enjolras says, leaning his head against Fantine’s shoulder, and her heart fills up with affection for the shy, reserved boy next to her, full of his own kind of charm. “Yes they do.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
